


This Isn't a Nora Ephron Movie

by Kasuchi



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasuchi/pseuds/Kasuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"We aren't Harry and Sally, you know."</i> Blair and Chuck grow up and figure themselves out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't a Nora Ephron Movie

**Author's Note:**

> AU-ish. Breaks off before 404 and heads in a different direction into the future.

Blair Waldorf does not _pine_

Pining is so perfectly common. So is jealousy. Green eyes should be a matter of genetics, or a fringe benefit to blue eyes in certain lights.

So what if it took her two years to make Chuck into the young _man_ she spots on Gossip Girl blasts from time to time? So what if the girl on his arm is blonde and European and has seen that admiring gaze of his without having had to stand on the receiving end of his hateful, angry stare? 

Bitterness, too, she thinks, is beneath her.

**& &&**

She was not lying when she said she did not love Chuck anymore. Well, she was only half-lying. Not like anyone expects the whole truth from Blair Waldorf anyway. (It's not really her style.) 

But. She loved Chuck more than she's loved anyone else before in her life - all-consumingly, with every fiber and cell and nucleotide in her body.

Love like that? It doesn't go away.

So, yes, she loves Chuck Bass, but she is not _in love_ with him. In truth, seeing him makes her heart ache and her chest tighten, but it's not love.

It's not.

**& &&**

With the wisdom and clarity of time, she sees that she loved him too much. She had never thought such a thing possible, but. So it was.

She had made Chuck the absolute center of her universe, seeking him out as NYU went from a shining idea (with _some_ promise, surely?) to a living nightmare that seemed to worsen each day. 

She had loved him too much. She only hoped it meant she could still love again.

**& &&**

She owes him more than she can ever express, ever fully articulate. _Columbia_. It is where she was always meant to be, among her own kind. 

She understands these people, understands their nonchalant wealth and their nonchalant rules of propriety. The air here isn't tinged with the hue and odor of still-fresh marijuana; the girls wear Barney's, not boho; and the world is suddenly wide and bright and beautiful again for her the way it hasn't been for her since somewhere halfway through senior year.

A text message? No--no words will ever fully convey the fullness of her heart.

Still, she knows he understands.

**& &&**

Eva makes it a year and a half. Blair never says more than a few words to her at any given time. Bitterness is still beneath her, of course, but frankly she has nothing to say. Eva's Chuck is not the man that Blair knew. Blair has sense enough to know that much at least.

The Empire Hotel thrives, especially as more and more brassy, new money clientele show up. Rock stars and Hollywood darlings come and go, and every photo features Chuck, Eva at his side. Blair feels nothing.

Once, she stopped in at the hotel, Serena off somewhere with someone. Blair seated herself at the bar and ordered a martini, the gin clear and the olives appropriately tangy. Only the best.

She set down her glass and ran a finger along the rim. "I wondered if I would see you," she said quietly, gaze focused on the depths of the wide, shallow glass.

He huffed softly, and seated himself beside her. "I never could sneak up on you." His suit was 60s-style, three pieces, and his shirt a blue so pale as to be white. The fabric of the suit was striped, and a pocket square was neatly folded away.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here." It's really not a question.

"Not really," he replied easily, and signaled the bar tender for scotch. "You'll tell me soon enough."

Her lips quirked up into a ghost of a smile. "Am I so transparent?" She sipped from her glass, lipstick leaving a mark on the edge. 

"Only to me."

She met his gaze and looked away. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a room key and slid it across the bar to him. "I found this," she said.

He picked it up. "Why didn't you just give it to Serena to give to me?"

"Because I wanted to hand it to you myself." She paused. "And she wouldn't let me." 

"Blair--"

"Eva--" She paused, held up a hand to cut him off, then downed the rest of her glass and squared her shoulders. "Eva seems like a really nice girl."

He nodded silently.

She swallowed in spite of her dry mouth. "I am glad she makes you happy." Carefully, she stood, sliding off the barstool, and gathered her things, headed for the door.

"Wait."

She stopped and turned, expression puzzled but heart hammering. _This-this is the feeling of loving and losing._

He pressed the key into her hand. "Keep it."

Her fingers curled around the hard plastic for a second. Then, she shook her head and smiled wanly. "You're an honest man now, Chuck." She paused. "Well, relatively speaking." She put the key behind his pocket square. "I can't keep this, and we both know it."

He nodded and stepped back. "Good-bye, Blair."

"Good-bye, Chuck."

And she walked out.

**& &&**

She dates the Monacan prince. Louis is wonderful--cultured, attentive, loving. He's also a great deal young at heart (though not in body) and it is something she isn't used to.

The first week he is in New York, he insists that she take him to every landmark and sight in the city. She obliges, but tells him that he must make it up to her.

(He does, and how.)

They go to the MOMA, the Statue of Liberty, to various sculptures in the boroughs, to NYU and Columbia both, to the other side of the Hudson to see the New York skyline. There, on the boat, as the lights on the skyscrapers twinkle and light in succession, he kisses her, and she wonders if this is what perfect feels like.

She takes him everywhere she can think of except the Empire State Building. She refuses, and he doesn't ask.

**& &&**

They sleep together after their fifth date. Louis hadn't pressured her at all - apparently, Monaco knows something of American customs. Either way, as she lies there beside him, the warm and comfortable weight of his arm across her stomach, Blair thinks. 

This is the first time this has felt like a decision for herself. No expectations, no farcical ideas of taking control in her life - just a man and a woman who care about each other a great deal, and so express it.

She rolls her eyes at herself and tries to melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Maudlin looks as good on her as mauve, and mauve was _so_ two seasons ago.

**& &&**

When Chuck finally turns 21, there's a huge event. Not that anyone really cares that Chuck can now drink legally - Chuck's been sipping scotch since he was 14, and even then the scotch was twice his age - but there _is_ something to celebrate. Bass Industries is finally, finally his. The board voted to allow him to share power with Lily as part of a long-term transition program. 

Serena invites her to the gala and, somewhat surprisingly, the private family gathering.

"Congratulations, Charles," Lily toasted, raising her glass to him. "It took you three years, but you finally proved to all of the naysayers, to the doubters, to the board, and to   _yourself_ , that you have what it takes to do this." She smiled and shook her head. "Cleaning up your private life helped a great deal, as well." There was a soft, shared laughter. Blair caught Nate and Chuck smirking at each other. Beside Chuck, Eva casually reached over and held his hand. Seamlessly, he kissed the back of it, palms clasped together. Blair turned her attention back to Lily.

"...I am, and always have been, proud to call you one of my own. Happy birthday, Charles." The room's white noise turned to good-natured chattering, the glasses clinking together methodically, echoing in the vast room. 

"It should have been you up there beside him," a soft voice murmured in the back of her mind. Part of her fancied it to be Jack, as it always asked the worst of her.

"Shut up," she muttered and stared into her glass for a long moment.

"Did you say something?" The board member to her right peered at her inquisitively.

Blair shook her head. "I'm fine, really." And she was, she really was.

**& &&**

Life continues as it always does. Blair goes to class and her trysts with her royal - royal! - boyfriend and works to find a major. She finds she has a head for numbers and an eye for color. She goes with something in fashion.

Her mother raised an eyebrow and Cyrus looks concerned. Both of them asked if she was sure.

Blair thought of her mother negotiating with buyers, with clients, with models, with suppliers, with space renters and real estate agents, with corporations hell-bent on beating her down, but Eleanor fighting back and standing tall. She thought of Cyrus and his generous heart and how much joy he brings to all of those around him, and of his indefatigable determination. 

Blair smiled. "I am sure."

**& &&**

When they are 25, Chuck tops the list of New York's most eligible bachelors. Eva is far behind him by then, as are a couple of other women she's half-seen on Gossip Girl.

Blair, by contrast, is _busy_. 

Using a few connections, she manages to land at a magazine as a buyer and spread developer. Her job, she told her mother and Cyrus and Serena and her father and Roman excitedly, is to choose accessories for the fashion spreads, based on what's being features in that month's issue and what's currently "in."

Eleanor couldn't look prouder of her baby girl, Cyrus too. Roman and her father are effusive in their praise. Serena smiles so wide and so bright that Blair can read every thought in her head, all of them loving.

Later, as she sank into her lavender and rose bath, Dorota asked the tough questions as gently as she could. "Miss Blair, you sure this job right? You cannot fetch coffee, it not right." 

Blair, back flush against the curve of the tub, hair pulled back into a tight French twist, replied without opening her eyes. "I can do it," she said fiercely, not hesitation or fear. "This is what I want to do."

**& &&**

The job is and isn't what she expected. She works long hours, hours that stretch even longer just before a deadline. Some days she's a glorified intern, bringing senior staff coffee and files and collages of hot items that she spent hours and hours piecing together (she finds small, white triangles of photo and printer paper in her hair, her purse, her pockets even days later) for a spread. Other times, she is large and powerful, handing clothes to models as the wardrobe mistress watches on, distributing accessories like Halloween candy. A pearl necklace here, chandelier earrings there, a lacquered hair comb elsewhere. Her name is one of one hundred in tiny print in the first few pages of each issue, but seeing page after page of her decisions on high gloss paper?

It is enough. She is satisfied.

**& &&**

By thirty, Blair has married and divorced once and is the head of her department. Instead of choosing and distributing accessories, she goes to Fashion Week, chooses models, chooses outfits for each issue's spread. One issue, at her father and Roman's urging, she does a fashion spread in the style of French Vogue. The issue garners a lot of attention - it's a stylistic departure for the magazine, and the issue proves controversial. There's a great deal of nudity, male and female alike, and - most surprisingly - a variety of bodies and body types represented.

Some call it pornographic, others _haute arte_. Her editors call it daring and give her a bonus.

The issue ups their circulation 5% alone.

**& &&**

Chuck Bass remains an inevitable presence in her life. She cannot escape him - there is no escape. Europe or Asia or even Australia - he is (or could be) there, a few steps behind or before her.

"It's like he's Carmen Sandiego!" she complained to Serena, phone pressed to her ear as she walks down 5th Avenue. She was Audrey-esque that day - large glasses, large hat, fitted dress. Blair never had children, and her figure even at 32 made this clear.

On the other end of the line, Serena laughed. "You knew it was a risk you would have to take when you decided to settle in New York again."

Blair sighed. "Yes, but _every_ social event, _every_ gala. Hell, even every fashion show. It's like he's stalking me."

"Maybe he is, B." She could _hear_ Serena shrug. "It's been, what, twelve years? Maybe things have changed."

"Nothing's changed," she replied flatly. "No. I swore, S. I will never be involved with Chuck Bass ever again." 

"Then just ask him why. _He_ was never the one who actively lied in your relationship."

"Maybe, but he was as good at scheming as I was."

"Blair, you're an adult now, with a career. All of that is - or should be - behind you now." She heard Serena shift. "Just talk to him. He's not who you remember him to be."

**& &&**

He wasn't. The Charles Bartholomew Bass before her was barely recognizable to her. But it isn't his appearance - he was not taller or more muscled, not paler or tanner or even differently dressed. His hair was dark, though there was a touch of gray at his temples despite him being in his early thirties, and his expression was still haughty.

No, the difference was in how he _moved_. He had never been burdened or awkward, but now he wore his power the way his father did. Crowds parted for him a at a glance, and his shoulders and back were perpetually perfectly poised. 

He left her feeling nervous. This man was a stranger to her. Long gone was the 18-year-old young man she was sleeping with (and in love with) so many years ago. Here, now, is his father's son, master and commander of his own domain.

Lily greeted Blair warmly when they ran into each other. Her hair is turning silver, but it makes her look more dignified, if that were even possible. The lines of her face, few wrinkles as there are, give her a wise look. Everyone knew Lily van der Woodsen (now Humphrey) would always age well.

"I didn't realize you had handed Bass Industries over," Blair said after they had caught up.

"Yes, well, when Charles turned 25 it seemed like the right thing to do." Lily rotated her glass. "It's what Bart would have wanted, I think. He was never able to express it, but he did love Charles, you know. Not that I'll ever be able to convince him of it. But what about yourself? I heard about that infamous photo shoot in your magazine. I also heard it was your idea." Lily's eyes sparkled.

Blair laughed. "We decided to be daring, do something a little more like French Vogue. I'm just glad it worked."

"Risks like that usually do." Both women turned to face the new voice.

"Charles!" Lily beamed and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll catch up with you later, Blair." 

"Yes, of course," Blair replied, distracted. She and Chuck hadn't spoken since her wedding; before that, a gala. 

Up close she confirmed for herself what she had seen from afar. He did look different, but not in any way she could adequately describe. He was still a bit taller than her, still trim and fair-skinned. His features were still flawless, and his hair still dark and short. No, nothing so obvious was changed. If she had been forced to admit what kept throwing her off, she would have had to say his body language. He moved differently now, stood differently. He gestured and shrugged and even smiled differently.

No, this was definitely not the Chuck Bass she had warred with or slept with or loved. The man who stood before her that night was a veritable stranger.

"Blair," he greeted, dipping his chin slightly. In one hand, he swirled a glass of scotch, the ice rattling against the glass. "How have you been?" 

She gave him a long look before sighting explosively. "I'm fine, and going out onto the balcony." She moved through the crowd out onto the open balcony that overlooked the city. Manhattan always did look so lovely at night, she thought, as she lit a cigarette.

"The city always best at night," he said, an unwitting echo of her thoughts. He had followed, just as she had expected. "You cut your hair and took up smoking?"

"Don't tell my mother," she replied wryly.

"You've grown caustic in your old age, I see."

"Sadly, not all of us can simply grow rich. Well, rich _er_ in your case."

A ghost of a smile skittered across his features. "I never pegged you for a smoker."

"Keeps the calories away." She half-smiled at him. "It's all the rage in Paris, I assure you."

They were silent for a long moment, both of them occupied with the view laid out before them. 

"You look good, Chuck," she said at last, taking in a long, final drag before she stubbed out the butt. "Shame we haven't seen in each other in so long." She exhaled a long, gray stream.

"Jet-setting types like us are hard to catch. You know that as well as I do."

"All too well. Ended my marriage, after all." 

They'd hit upon the elephant in the room, and Blair just wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh.

"I'm sorry about that," he offered.

"No, you're not." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "But I appreciate the effort."

"I never could bullshit you."

"I never had a tolerance for it."

He smiled and leaned against the high cement wall that served as a railing, body angled fully toward her. "Blair Waldorf, who have you become?"

**& &&**

She didn't sleep with him that night, though the invitation was implicit enough. She cracked a joke about him being a prime candidate for Batman and he retorted that he had no sense of justice. It could have happened. It didn't. 

It _did_ happen a year later.

 _Come up,_ he had said at the end of the night.

 _And if I do?_ she had replied, tilting her head to the side.

_I'll show you a good time._

She snorted. _Been there, done that. Literally._ She gave him a once over with her eyes. _What are you offering me, Bass? Make it worth my while._

His gaze turned appreciative. _No strings, no questions._ He paused and looked, suddenly, boyish. _I've missed you, Blair Waldorf._

She gave him an appraising look. The elevator _dinged_ and the doors opened. She stepped past him into the car. 

_Well?_ she asked. _Are you coming or what?_

He strode in and keyed the penthouse. He kissed her fully as the doors closed. 

In the morning, she was the one who left.

**& &&**

She lit a cigarette after sex, ashtray at her elbow. The lighter clattered onto the stand and she blew smoke rings into the air. Her lipstick left marks on the filter. 

Chuck raised an eyebrow at her. "This is who you are now?" 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, hand poised with the cigarette between her fingers. "Do you want me to put it out?"

"No, it's fine." He reached over pulled her in for a kiss.

**& &&**

"Are you leaving?"

She paused as she pulled on one of her boots. "Yeah, I gotta be in the office across town in a couple of hours." 

He sat up in the bed and ran his hand through his hair. "Oh. Were you gonna leave a note, at least?" 

She huffed a laugh. "Do I make you feel cheap?" She zipped up her boot and walked over to him, kneeling on the bed. "Poor _baby_."

He shot her a glare, then his expression softened. "Come on. Stay a little longer." 

She shook her head. "No. I can't." 

He pulled her in for a long kiss. "Please? I'm even asking nicely." 

She searched his face for a long moment. "I have to go, Chuck." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll call when I'm at lunch, okay?" 

He nodded, hands dropping back to the sheets. Her hand lingered on his face for a moment longer, and then she left.

Outside, on the street, she made to light a cigarette, then thought better of it.

**& &&**

Blair and Chuck had a drink together at the Empire, in the lovely, lavish bar where they once made their peace. They had been sleeping together almost a month at that point. Chuck hadn't even been so much as spotted with another woman lately. Blair decided it was time to talk.

"If we're doing this, I want us to be exclusive," she said, sipping on a glass of a deep red wine, though she always swore she was a martini girl at heart. 

He expression turned surprised. "No pleasantries, not even a single inquiry regarding my day?" He _tsked_ at her. "You really have changed."

"Just say yes or no, _Charles_."

"Fine." He shot her a look, expression morphing into one more familiar. "I _can_ commit, you know. The peak of my salad says are behind me." 

"So I've heard," she retorted, voice wry. "But who said I wanted commitment?" 

"You said--"

"I wanted exclusivity. Neither of us sleeping with other people. I don't care who you see socially." 

"You keep surprising me, Blair."

She smirked at him over the rim of her glass. "I thought you might like that trick. I picked it up from a Serbian girl I knew a few years ago." 

Chuck's expression glazed over slightly as he contemplated just _how_ Blair knew said Serbian girl. Blair smiled enigmatically at him, wine glass obscuring her expression slightly. "I'd wondered," he said at last. 

"Now you know." She took a long drink, letting the Bordeaux run over her tongue. "How was your day?" 

He laughed, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. His employees looked concerned. 

Blair thought he looked beautiful.

**& &&**

The started to spend more time together. Patterns are easy to fall into, frankly. She smoked on the balcony wearing his shirt and her panties while watching the sun rise. She stubbed out the butt and felt two arms wrap around her torso. 

"What's on your mind?"

"I think you're more Lex Luthor than Bruce Wayne," she replied distractedly, eyes still focused on the slowly brightening horizon.

"I don't own half of New York, but more than a few people think I'm evil."

"Even Humphrey?"

" _Especially_ Humphrey."

"Huh. Not one I would have guessed."

"I slept with his sister. I was never going to be his favorite person. He owes me, though." 

"Why am I not surprised?"

He paused and pressed his chin into her shoulder. "Nothing should surprise you, Blair. Even you thought the worst of me, for a while."

"All's fair in love and war," she murmured. Then, she turned and kissed him.

**& &&**

"I think you're in love with Chuck. Again."

"It's just sex, S," Blair replied patiently.

"With you two, it's _never_ just sex. I learned _that_ back in high school."

"It's been like fifteen years. I like to think it's different now."

"It might be, but B? How many nights a week do you two spend together?"

"Four, maybe five."

"Have you traveled to be with him?"

"Yes, but--"

"B, do you two _always_ have sex?"

"No, and--"

"Blair." Serena sighed, a crackle of noise in Blair's ear. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"And believe me when I say that the only person getting hurt here is the maid who has to change the sheets. Let it go, Serena. It's not like it was before."

"Be careful?"

"Promise."

**& &&**

"We aren't Harry and Sally, you know," she said one night, lying on her side facing him.

His hand pressed into the folds of her sex. "I know," he said, flexing his fingers. 

She remembered very little after that.

**& &&**

Somewhere in there, Blair Waldorf lied. Not like anyone expected the truth from her anyway.

Problem is: even she wasn't sure when she had.

**& &&**

"We can't keep seeing each other," she said decidedly. They stood in the doorway of his place, both fully clothed, but he was disheveled. 

"What?"

"We're done with this." She gestured vaguely into the space between them. She started to walk away.

"W-Wait! Wait, damn it. Blair!" He chased after her and pulled her by the elbow. "What the hell?! Don't I get a fuckin' chance to respond?"

She leveled a cool stare at him. "Not really," she retorted. 

He visibly worked to compose himself. "Blair." He chose his words carefully. "What prompted this." 

She glanced away from his direct gaze, and suddenly the clothes felt too confining and her feet hurt and she was damned _tired_. She returned her gaze to his face and shifted her weight. 

"Frankly," she drawled, tilting her head to the side. "I find you boring." 

She turned on her heel and her expression immediately shattered, but he couldn't see that and, well, that was all that mattered.

**& &&**

"I love you," he declared, voice steady, eyes clear, gaze intense. "I've always loved you." It sounded like he meant it.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she replied, mind reeling. _This wasn't supposed to happen._

"Not really the answer I was expecting." His voice had frost at the edges.

She buried her face in her hands. "Chuck, I..." Her pause stretched out into helpless silence.

He nodded, shifting his weight. "That's what I thought." He walked away.

**& &&**

"He told me that he loved me, that he always had."

"Again?"

"Could you please try to be serious?"

Nate laughed. "Okay, okay, but Blair?"

"Yes, Nate?"

"I'd be willing to bet you're totally head over heels in love with him, too."

Her voice was frost. "Thank you for that, Archibald. A pleasure, as always." She rose from the table.

"Wait, wait! Blair."

She sat back down. "I'm listening." 

"Look." He sighed. He shook his head and searched for the right words. Blair had to hide a smile - in spite of the years, he was the same, still. _Thank God he has you,_ she thought, and wished she hadn't. "You and Chuck have always connected. It's like you're drawn to each other. We all felt it back in high school." He laughed ruefully. "You were so much more alive with him than you ever were with me, did you ever realize? I envied that, but then I realized something." 

He looked away for a second, then met her gaze. "You and I weren't the love story, you know. The rest of us figured that out a long time ago." He paused. "Maybe it's time you realized it, too."

**& &&**

She had always thought of herself as Audrey, but maybe this time she was Bogey. Either way, it's _Sabrina_ and she's the one in denial. 

It wasn't until she delivered a red-faced, impassioned defense of Chuck Bass to a roomful of stunned employees before storming out that she was struck by the realization: she, too, loved him. 

Her personal assistant, who at this point knew her better than she knew herself without having to say a word, handed her a nouveaux carpetbag and a set of tickets.

Blair barely missed a beat. She told the girl that she would be getting a raise and then practically sprinted out of the office in her Louboutains, the office abuzz and staring after her. 

There was no cinematic airport chase scene, no ridiculous swelling of violins. She leaned up against the door jamb of his office's double doors, the great glass window overlooking the vast expanse of Hong Kong, in her favorite Jackie O suit, heels barely clicking against the tile. He watched her approach, pen clattering to the desk, expression open and surprised.

"A rose from Versailles," she said, placing it on her desk before him.

"Blair, what are you--?"

She held up a finger to silence him. "A set of pocket squares from London," she added, placing the box to one side. "And," she said with a flourish, "a Mont Blanc pen from Berlin." 

"If you think," he started, rising from the desk and walking around it until he stood in front of her. "If you think gifts alone are enough, you should think again." 

A ghost of a smirk skittered across her features. Of _course_ he recognized the game. He always was her favorite opponent. The smirk softened, grew gentler. "There is one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I love you, too." She had barely finished when he kissed her, arms wrapping around her waist and hand tangling in her hair. 

"Say it again," he murmured, lips a breath from hers. 

She laughed - she remembered this, too. "I love you," she repeated, again and again, and swore to herself that she would never let go.

End scene. Fade to black. Roll credits.

**Author's Note:**

>   1. More fully: "We aren't Harry or Sally, and we're not in a Nora Ephron screenplay."
>   2. Thanks to [](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tenebris**](http://tenebris.livejournal.com/) for telling me that the fic prompt was Gossip Girl and not HIMYM. That helped a lot, actually.
>   3. Originally written longhand in a notebook as an exercise. It quickly spun out of control, no lie.
>   4. "Frankly, I find you boring." comes from _Crown Duel_ by Sherwood Smith aka [](http://sartorias.livejournal.com/profile)[**sartorias**](http://sartorias.livejournal.com/). It's used magnificently in that book.
>   5. Chuck's Hong Kong office pretty much looks like, in my head, Pepper's from _Iron Man 2_. That great big window, the glass-and-steel desk, the general lack of trinkets on the desk, and the large double-doors.
> 



End file.
